#liquid nouns

[beatsforbrothels]

Fielded - Liquid Nouns (Kenny Segal Remix)

[azzayofchaos]

Since my other Nether worldbuilding post was received pretty well... I'm back on my bullshit!

This time featuring zoning and biomes of the Neath: Lore below cut

Nether (noun): the formidable hellscape straddling the boundery between the Fragments of the Overworld and Death's Realms.

Derived from Beneath -> Neath -> Neth -> Nether.

The Nether is most easily accessable through outer regions of the nether, regions that are comparatively closed-off, and lacking in biodiversity compared to the Deep Nether where most Neath civilizations are centered.

The Neth is divided into three primary zones, distinguished by altitude and general climates.

The Calfactory Zone: the largest and most icon of the three, the Calfactory zone is blisteringly hot and bone-dry, it's most prominent features are its abundant seas and lakes of magma, and the massive Supermagmas atriums that are common above the magma. In the largest of these atriums, the ceiling may be so high above as to be completely invisible from the ground, obscured by an ever present smog of toxic vapor and minerals formed in the self-generated micro-climates that are generated from the rising heat of the lava that begins to cool at a higher altitude.  

In the Basalt Deltas and other biomes around the edges of these lakes, massive pillars of rock and crystals bulwark the more-visible ceiling. 

The most common of this zone’s biomes is the Crimson woods, home to hearty thermal-philic fungi and plants that grow on the minerals and vapors of the lakes. Many are carnivorous in their lack of access to water or sunlight, and these forests contain many sub-biomes and ecosystems of flourishing life. 

The Wastes are perhaps the most desolate regions of the Neath, irradiated deserts of red-rock, brimstone, and sharp sand. Even the vast majority of nether-folk avoid these deserts due to the leftover radiation that rots and destroys anything that waits too long. The only forms of life are particularly robust lichens and bacteria that are happy to sit by the pools of boiling pools of sulfur and mud and toxic sludge that dot the landscape. Growing within the rocks themselves are colonies of amorphous fungus, called geocorpus molds that get their spores into cracks in the soft netherack and slowly feed on it, a delicacy in nether cuisine. 

The Temperate Zone: Cradled in the heights of the Neath’s atriums and sat bellow the roof is the temperate zones, the rising heat of the zone below begins to cool and forming distinct weather patterns in this zone and leaving it, while still sweltering, a cooler though much more humid climate.

The main biome are the luminescent warped-fungal rainforests that collect the high-rising minerals and odd moisture from the lakes. Liquid is actually precent here, though if it’s not safely filtered through the innards of the various plants and fungi, this water is usually aggressively corrosive, and it is best to shelter from the  acidic precipitation to avoid chemical burns. The nether folk and ender local to these rainforests are suited to deal with these conditions and the ender especially do not have trouble with the extreme pH of the water here like they would in the overworld. The zone is lit almost exclusively by the biolumincense of the organisms there and have often been described as false-stars.

In the Deep Nether, the ceiling may give way, allowing one to pass onto the plateaus of the Nether Roof and the yawning void above. The bedrock of the nether roof is jagged and layered in huge slabs, sometimes broken up my mazes of pillar-like structures and shallow, thermal pools of crystal-clear liquid. The kind you don't want to touch of course. fogs may hang low to the ground, but when its clear, or above the fog, the entire universe seems to spill out into the sky. The nether roof was culturally significant and a source of much knowledge and inspiration in the early days, but I'll get more into that in a later post 0.0

The Rime Zone: Plunge deep enough and one might find themselves bellow the lava beds. Here, where the heat can't quite penetrate, the temperatures will drop rapidly to sub-zero.

Namely, the Rime Zone is made up of the soul valleys, flat steppes of cinder and clotted sand, you can imagine it almost with the blindness effect, a fog that pools by your feet, and a heavier darkness hanging from the sky, it feels massive and endless and claustrophobic all at once. Frost collects as crystals on the irradiated, soul-soaked barrens, and the bones of the massive nether wyrms lie fossilized, breaking up the landscape. The sands are also split with patches of crazing on the ground and vents of blue fire that spills out and sets the sand ablaze.

These same wryms can be found sometimes, ancient things that dig through sand and soft rocks and the magma lakes, far and few between and treated with both fear and reverence.

And in the deepest pits of the Neath are the glowing frozen lakes that are colloquially and rightfully called the Gates to Death, glowing blue from beneath their surfaces. Indeed, any further down and you pass into limbo, the edge of Death's Realms.

Extra Notes??:

Soul sand/soil is tread on carefully or not at all, is one form of remnants from the apocolyspe. Like the general radiated rubble present through the Nether, it's a fault of nuclear fallout. Unlike other areas of radiation, its also been infused with the souls of those who didn't survive the joining of worlds.

This infused quality is also precent in Nether Debris, resulting in a material that takes magic particularly well.

Iron cannot be found in dense veins and crystals like gold or quartz in the nether, but it's a pretty rich mineral a lot of netherack, giving it its ruddy coloring.

Sorry for this massive rant that no one asked for. If you have questions please feel free to send an ask, I may not have an answer yet but I'll certainly come up with one if I can.

I'm also hoping to do a pass on my headcanons about history and culture in the Nether and then we might start talking about character headcanons since this is also an actual AU.

If you read this far, here's some notes on striders and ghast

[kiatheinsomniac]

──── 𝐇𝐘𝐏𝐍𝐎𝐏𝐎𝐌𝐏𝐈𝐀 ˊˎ - ☾ ⋆ ﾟ𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓 / 𝐑𝐔𝐋𝐄𝐒 𝐍𝐎𝐓𝐄𝐒: Sol's been living in my head rent free so here's a lil brain rot I had about him. Also if you haven't played his source game but like yandere things, I 100% recommend you try it out (there's a free version!) and consider supporting the creator! 𝐏𝐀𝐈𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐆: Sol Brugmansia x Reader 𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐃 𝐂𝐎𝐔𝐍𝐓: 0.9k 𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒: MDNI, NSFW content, source media rated 18+, implied somnophilia (dubcon), yandere-typical themes

Hypnopompia:

Noun, Psychology

The semiconscious state prior to complete wakefulness.

Your breath comes out in heated puffs as your head tips to the side, cheek warm against the soft pillow beneath you. There’s yet another pillow propped under your hips too that you’re being pushed into each time Sol’s hips smack needily into yours. 

His dark, green-streaked hair tickles against your cheek and shoulder as he buries his face in the crook of your neck, nibbling at your skin and then soothing it with kisses and little licks. He’s hunched over you, completely engulfing your frame with his much larger one, like he wants to block out the rest of the world so that only he can exist to you and you to him. 

“You’re so warm…” He breathes out, an edge of a whine in his voice. He’s leaning up with one of his elbows beside you, the other hand roaming the curve of your hip and waist, anchoring you in place. He leans up a little to look down at you beneath him. His fiery eyes are lidded, a blush blooming across his cheeks as he takes in the sight of you with your hair splayed around your head like a halo and he truly feels he’s found heaven tangled up in the sheets with you like this. “And so soft…”

He cups his hand beneath your knee and pushes it outwards to spread you wider for him. His breath catches and he lets out a moan at the sight of his cock splitting your sweet pussy open, a ring of your cream having formed at the base as he sinks into you again, and again, and again. If not for his body’s physical limits, he’s sure he’d spend an eternity doing this with you, his soulmate. 

His hand gently drags over your tummy, black-painted nails faintly tickling you and then pausing to press on your abdomen for a few strokes, watching how it makes you moan in pleasure, your lashes fluttering hypnotically under his enamoured gaze. His hand resumes its journey downwards until it reaches its desired destination, rubbing sticky hearts against your puffy clit, smearing your slick over the sensitive pearl. Your hips buck into his and it causes a moan to tumble past his lips. You’re so warm and soft everywhere and he feels blessed to be able to have you in his arms, wrapped around him, like this. 

He’s not sure if he could ever bring himself to admit it to you but he’s scrolled through different forums to find the perfect tips on how to bring you to bliss like this, what women like. But you look like a damn deity as you whimper and moan beneath him, rolling your hips to meet his. You’re the blood in his veins, the air in his lungs, and he can’t live without you, without his soul. 

He adds a little more pressure with his thumb on your clit, leaning back on his calves so that he has a free hand to grab your hip, angling them so that the head of his cock can drag against your spongy sweet spot with each thrust. He may be inexperienced but he’s a very attentive lover. Each positive reaction from you spurs him on and a part of him is sure he’s actually getting more pleasure from making you feel good than the actual physical sensations you’re giving him. 

Your spine arches up sweetly at the liquid electricity that’s sluicing through your veins at all of his attentive touches. He leans over you again, his tempo faltering a little as he gets quicker, firmer, a whimper leaving his lips before they wrap around your earlobe and bite gently. 

“Are you close…?” He asks breathlessly as your thighs squeeze his hips and tremble. You let out a needy moan and nod your head, looping your arms around his neck and tangling your fingers in his long hair, tugging and you search for a means to ground yourself while your head begins to swim with a foggy pleasure. “Come for me, pumpkin… Let it all go.” There’s a pleading tone laced into his voice and he pulls you closer as the two of you begin tumbling towards your end. Sol whimpers at feeling how you tighten around him, like begging him to cum with you. He hooks an arm under the arch of your spine to cradle you to his chest, feeling your pert nipples rub against him, the softness of your breasts too. 

“Sol… Sol…” His name spills past your lips in whimpers, his name still on your tongue when you open your eyes and you’re alone in your dim room. Illumination creeps in from the streetlamp near your flat’s window. Your heart is fluttering erratically in your chest and you’re sweating despite the room being cold where the broken lock on your window has caused the wind to blow it open ajar again. 

You sit up groggily, cheeks still warm from the memory of the intimate dream you had of your friend. You curse at your sticky panties and feel that your wetness has made its way to your inner thighs too where you’ve only been sleeping in an oversized t-shirt and panties. 

You curse Hyugo for putting these sorts of ideas in your head, always dropping teasing little comments about you and Sol getting together. You shake your head to try and rid yourself of the dream as you get up to properly close your window, oblivious to the fiery coloured eyes watching you from the shadows down on the street. 

☾ ⋆ ﾟlike my work? why not: ∘ buy me a coffee? ∘ comms. ∘ taglist ∘ follow/reblog

🏷️Sol now added to taglist!

[atxxokirina]

Seven Deadly Sins.

Gluttony.

noun • habitual greed or excess in eating

Lo'ak x Fem Na'vi Reader | 18+, MDNI

Banner credit ♡

Contains: SMUTTY SMUT, pussy eating and fingering, dom Lo'ak, denial and edging, squirting, very VERY slight mention of somnophilia at the end, i think that's everything .

Author's note / plot: I decided to do a series based off of the Seven deadly sins, which are pride, greed, lust, envy, gluttony, wrath, and sloth. I have plans for multiple fics including each sin, and each one will consist of different Avatar characters. <3 hopefully you all love this idea as much as I do!

It was no secret that Lo'ak loved eating pussy— yours, of course. He worshipped it. Obsessed with your tangy slick, the way it pulsated around his fingers and tongue, and your perfect little clit.

Lo'ak squeezes the plush of your thighs, holding them open as you struggle to stay still. "Stop moving mama, let me finish eating this cute pussy." He mumbles on your cunt, half of his tongue meeting with your spongey walls as he suctioned your clit. "I-I'm trying..!" You gasp, followed by a moan. He's been at this for Eywa knows how long. You feel so you numb and sensitive. "Lo'ak, please.. I-I can't cum again." You whined. Trying to scoot your hips back, but to no avail. He simply growls, sending vibrations to your cunt which just made your hips fall back. "I'm not done with my meal yet, mama." He teases in a low tone, smacking your mound, resulting in a high pitched whimper. "Stop.." You breathe out, fighting back another orgasm. Lo'ak scoffs, repositioning himself. He scissors your folds open with two digits, kitten licking the puddle of wetness that spread onto your thighs.

"You know.." He starts, teasing your entrance with his fingers. "I thought I told you about telling me what to do," you hum, followed by a whimper. Looking down, you see a dark look in his eyes. Darker than usual. "L-Lo'ak, what are you doing.." He ignores you. "..because, I'm in charge here, and not you, yeah?" He emphasizes the last word with a huff, plunging his long fingers into you, curling them up and reaching your sweet spot. Your eyes shut themselves closed. Breath shuddering while needy moans fall from your mouth. "Mmmm!" You squeal, tears began to form in your eyes as his digits pounded you nonstop. "I'm- cumming! I'm gonna cum, oh shit.." You feel your heartbeat pattern change drastically as your lower core tightens. "Yeah mama, squirt in my fucking mouth. Let go for daddy." He quickens his pace, jamming his digits into your sweet spot even more as he makes out with the rest of your cunt.

Your body lets go. Thighs shaking as the clear liquid spews out of your pussy, eyes rolling back while you grip Lo'ak's head. Pushing him down. He catches your squirt in his mouth, swallowing without hesitation. "Fuuck," Lo'ak groans as he slurps the residue off, listening to your moans die down as you pant. He lets your thighs go, climbing on top of you. "Wake up." He grumbles, cuppping your cheek, moving your face from either side. "I don't care if you're passed out, mama. I'm still gonna eat." Was the last thing you heard before he went back down..

taglist: @pandorxxx @sweethoneycn @neytirishottie @sullybrosimp @tsireyafavgirl @teyamsbitch @encephalitis-on-sundays @sassypain @neon-groves @rosyj @hidingfrommanda @whore-for-hawks

[literaryvein-reblogs]

A Few Food-related Words

for when your character is cooking or maybe eating at a fancy restaurant

Béchamel - a rich white sauce. This thick white sauce was invented by, and thus named after, Louis de Béchamel, a French courtier who served in the court of Louis XIV.

Bordelaise - a sauce consisting of stock thickened with roux and flavored typically with red wine and shallots. The etymology of bordelaise is tastefully simple: bordelaise is the feminine form of the adjective bordelais, meaning "of Bordeaux" (a region in France famous for its wines).

Braise - to cook slowly in fat and a small amount of liquid in a closed pot. The verb braise is from French braiser and braise, both of which signal that the coals are hot. The likely ignitors of the French words are Germanic kindling along with the Swedish brasa, meaning "fire."

Flam​bé - (adjective): dressed or served covered with flaming liquor (such as brandy, rum, or cognac). (verb): to douse with a liquor (such as brandy, rum, or cognac) and ignite. Flambé is the past participle of French flamber, meaning "to flame or singe," which is derived from the Old French noun flambe, meaning "flame."

Roux - a cooked mixture of flour and fat used as a thickening agent in a soup or a sauce. Roux is a shortening of beurre roux, which in French translates as "brown butter."

Soubise - a garnish or white sauce containing onions or onion purée. Soubise is said to be named after 18th-century French nobleman Charles de Rohan, Prince de Soubise, a favorite of Louis XV and Madame de Pompadour.

Velouté - a soup or sauce made of chicken, veal, or fish stock and cream and thickened with butter and flour. Velouté, in French, means "velvetiness" or "softness." It is related to velours, which gave English velour, a word for velvety material.

If any of these words make their way into your next poem/story, please tag me, or send me a link. I would love to read them!

More: Word Lists

[morellywrong]

Missing Out

Ethan Landry x afab reader (fem pronouns/nouns)

Warnings: stalking, obsession, Ethan's a pretty lil psycho, descriptions of murdering and torture, Ethan is actually fucked bro, reader is wearing a dress, Ethan is kinda neuro-divergent- coded (real), both Ethan and reader will be bi-coded because I said so, also some gross lil things in there for fun :)

Part 1 (?)

"Hey, y/n!" Ethan beams as he catches up to you, on your way to your morning class.

"Oh, hey Ethan...you sure are chipper this morning." You chuckle softly as he adjusts his bag strap on his shoulder.

"Yeah, I don't know, I guess I slept pretty good- I had a productive evening." He beams softly, walking alongside you, matching his usually long strides to better fit yours.

"Oh yeah, get all your work done?"

Flashes of the previous evening washed over Ethan's mind, his grin only growing.

"Please! Please, I didn't do anything!!!" The boy sobs, his eye swollen, lips bleeding and a deep gash on the side of his neck hes desperately trying to keep pressure on with his broken hand.

"...that's where you're wrong...you got in the way." Ethan hisses, his voice modulator clipped into the inside of his signature Ghostface mask, wiping the blood slowly from his knife.

"Please...please..." The boy begs helplessly, tears running down his cheeks, snot bubbling under his nose as he backs away weakly, only for his back to be met with the wall.

"Please, please...." Ethan mocks him, stepping closer, his heavy boots thumping against the concrete of the warehouse he'd dragged his latest victim to.

"No one will hear you scream...no one will remember you...not even her...youre nothing..." The boy yelled out in anguish, choked sobs becoming more and more liquidated-

Ethan snaps back to reality as he turns towards you again, still smiling brightly.

"Yeah, it was....good, I got everything finished sooner than I thought."

"Wow...maybe I should get you to do my coursework sometime." You chuckle softly, nudging his shoulder with your elbow. Heat spreads across his face as he lets out a breathless laugh, looking away.

"Y...yeah, well, maybe..." He mumbles, his dimples showing as he glances back to you.

"Oh, are you going to the frat party later tonight? Tara, Mindy and Anika invited me....Chad'll be there too..." You hum, offering the idea with a small grin.

Ethan's heart hammers in his chest, feeling that type of love sickness his Dad used to talk about with his mother.

Well. Before Wade had all his children assist in killing their mother. Ethan tried not to think about it too much.

"I...I'd love too, y/n..." He whispers, his pupils dilated so much one would assume he'd taken something to help him focus more on his studies.

Or watch the sky melt.

"Cool....uh, wanna meet at the party? Quinn offered to drive us girls there and back, since she'd got a date tonight..." You giggle slightly, even though you're glad there'll be a designated driver.

"Sure, uh, I've, uh, never really been to many parties, though. I get a little nervous in crowds." He lies, brows creased together, portraying that awkward, shy boy you know him as.

"Don't worry. You can stick with me the entire night....I don't drink much anyways..." You beam softly as you stop outside your class.

"I'll see you after Econ?" He nodded quickly, propping up on the balls of his feet briefly to try and contain his excitement.

"See you. Meet for lunch?"

"Defintiely. I heard there's pretzels today." You smirk softly as he lets out another breathless laugh.

"Yeah...." He murmurs in a slight daze as you walk into the lecture hall, giving him a small wave before leaving his sight.

He leans back against the wall, holding onto the straps of his backpack as his cheeks heat up even more, biting the inside of his cheek with an uncontrollable beam plastered on his pale face.

You had spent lunch with Ethan, sat on the grass outside one of the lecture halls, laughing together about how crappy most of the lecturers are, and exchanging mild stories about how boring your days were. But soon enough you had your last classes of the day to attend, afterwards he walked you to your dorm building.

He always insisted on walking you all the way to your dorm room, claiming it was safer.

"There's a psycho on the news, haven't you heard??" He beams playfully at you as you playfully push at his arm. He's been mentioning it ever since the first disappearances.

"Please, I'm not important enough of a target, let alone being noticed by some killer." You roll you eyes as he watches you take your keys out of your bag pocket.

Keys that he definitely hasn't got like 4 copies of each key on there. He's pretty sure one of them is just for a small indoor window, and another is to your old locker key that you still have on your keychain for some reason- even though he defintely has a copy of your current locker key.

It's the stupid little things he likes in life, after all. And something about you not caring to throw the old key out just makes him love you more.

"Nah, maybe the killer is secretly targeting you...maybe he's watching you sleep-" He grins playfully, watching you send him an unimpressed look.

"Alright, get out of here, you're not supposed to be in this building anyway...I think we'll be at the frat party at like 9, ask Chad, I'm sure Tara's told him all the details." You smirk whilst tapping the side of your nose playfuly. He taps his in return, grinning. It was no secret those two were grossly infatuated with each other.

"I'll see you later. Text me if you need anything." He responds like clockwork, a usual closing response he offers to you out of the kidness of his heart. And definitely not obsession.

"I will." You insist with a chuckle, before closing your door and leaving him beaming by himself crazily once more, rolling onto the balls of his feet once, twice then three times before he catches himself, correcting his body language quickly.

"You look so fucking good!" Tara beams, a shot or two already in her system, deciding to pregame before the party as you got ready with the other three party-goers.

She stood behind you, admiring your body as you stand in front of her bedroom mirror.

"I don't know...it's a bit revealing..." You mumble sheepishly as you glance at your reflection, at the new dress you had bought the last time you were out with the girls.

"Shut up, no one will care, if anything, it's a good thing, dummy." Mindy beams from the couch, Anika fixing the back collar of her shirt, both also a little tipsy.

"Yeah, girls and guys are gonna be all over you."

"Chad'll keep an eye on us though, he always does." Tara smiles gently as she helps adjust the straps on your shoulders, her fingers leaving a small tingling feeling against your bare skin.

"More like he keeps an eye on you." Quinn smirks from the doorway, eyeing your outfit up and down with almost hungry eyes.

"Nice dress, y/n...hey, you guys ready?" She holds up her car keys with a small shake, the metal jingling in her hand.

"Yes! Let's fucking go, girls!" Mindy exclaims, standing up and grabbing her girlfriends hand.

"Let's go!!" Anika grins brightly.

"Let's go, cmon!" Tara grabs your own hand in her's, practically dragging you behind her.

When you arrive the party, it's pretty much already at full force. Drunken jocks, flashy cheerleaders, theatre kids talking loudly in the corner, math wizz's awkwardly stood in their small gaggles. It's refreshing, in a way, to see the students enjoying themselves and taking a break from studying.

"It's fucking loud..." You mumble, glancing over at the giant speakers in the corner and the 'DJ' set up the frat house had set up for the party. Your ears strained as you winced, before gasping.

"I feel like i'm inside the fucking speaker!" Chad beams, his voice making you and Tara jump as he places a hand on your shoulder, the other on Tara's shoulder. His head appeared between you, but he was grinning at Tara.

You glance behind him, beaming softly as you spot Ethan stood there. He looks like he's already spacing out, disassociating from the crowd once he realises how loud and chaotic it was.

In reality, Ethan's zeroing in on a girl staring at you. She's one of the cheerleaders. Bitchy, blonde, ditzy, pretty stereotypical but there she is. She's whispering to her friends, gesturing towards you and smiling as they all giggle.

He's trying to figure out if she's making fun of you or if she's into you. Either way, he's going to paint someone's walls with her blood by the end of the night.

"Ethan?" He glances down at you, a smile breaking onto his face beyond his control.

"Hey! Sorry, uh..."

"I get it. I space out at parties a lot. It's jut so overstimulating sometimes." You reassure him, nudging him softly with your shoulder.

"Y....yeah, that's it! Sorry, I tend to space out pretty often..." He plays it off, before his eyes snap to your outfit- the tight dress you'd decided to wear, before he forces himself to meet your eyes, respectfully. He needed to have patience, he didn't want to creep you out or scare you away from him- at least not /yet/.

You didn't need to know about the cameras hidden in your dorm room.

"Hey, wanna grab a drink? I'll stay with you, don't worry." You offer, speaking over the music.

Ethan grinned a little more sternly than he had intended to as you playfully link your arm with his, his cheeks lighting up- he was grateful for the dark lighting of the frat party. The only real light was LED lights that blessed the room with a purple and red glow.

He glances back over the cheeleader, she's glaring at him, her knuckles tense as she grips her plastic paper cup so tight it starts to crinkle and strain. He just sent her a dark look, before walking with you to the kitchen of the frat house- where the alcohol is.

[cosmerelists]

Custom Collective Nouns for Radiant Spren

As requested by anon. :)

You know how there's collective nouns for animals, like a "murder of crows," or a "flamboyance of flamingos" or a "clowder of cats"? Those custom collective nouns sure are fun! So this anon asked what groups of Radiant spren are called. Here is what I think would be neat!

1. A Matrix of Cryptics

This was suggested by the anon who requested this list, and they are so correct.

2. A Judgment of Highspren

I considered other options as well, such as a "Pronouncement of Highspren" or a "Determination of Highspren," but "Judgment" felt right.

3. A Zephyr of Honorspren

A "zephyr" is a type of breeze, which felt right for the windspren-like Honorspren.

4. A Prism of Mistspren

Inspired by how they look like light reflecting onto a surface through a crystal. Plus, it evokes the shattered glass imagery that's always around Renarin, so

5. A Summit of Peakspren

Okay, maybe this one is TOO on the nose, but I like it! Yes, they are mountains so ha ha "summit," but also, a "summit" can be a gathering of people, and I like that lowkey pun.

6. A Verdancy of Cultivationspren

"Verdancy" is the noun from "verdant," so green and flourishing. Makes sense for Cultivationspren, right?

7. A Conflagration of Ashspren

I also considered something like "Curiosity" or "Marvel" to represent their interest in how things work, but "Conflagration" does speak to destruction and makes one think of fire, and therefore ash.

8. An Idiosyncrasy of Reachers

"Idiosyncrasy" is a word referring to a someone's peculiar or individualized behavior/character--it's built off of the ancient Greek idio (self, one's own) + krasis (mixture): so basically, it's your own personal blend. I love that for Reachers, the spren of Willshapers.

9. An Atrament of Inkspren

But this one is my favorite! "Atrament" is a word meaning "a very dark substance, especially a liquid." So - ink, yeah? But also, it's an obscure word, one stemming from the Latin for black, ater, and I think that sort of learned obscurity would appeal to an Inkspren.

[konigbabe]

pearls before swine

DAY 6 ⇢ Monster-fucking Pairing: kitsune!Satoru Gojo x fem!reader Word count: 2.7k Tags/warnings: no y/n; smut; public sex; p-in-v; exhibitionism; dirty talk; hints of praise kink; manhandling; Gojo has a tale (nine of them altogether) and fangs; mention of blood/bleeding; Japanese mythology and folklore Summary: Visiting the Shinto shrine – somehow – leads to you getting wrecked by a mischievous trickster fox on an open balcony and with no shame. [Part of NSFW Gojo Week 2023]. Divider is mine. Art credit goes to 月刺啾 (@/x2MciyELLRZRhg1) on Twitter [source].

event masterlist • masterlist • navigation • faq • AO3 • ko-fi

kitsune 狐 /kɪtˈsuː.neɪ/ noun; a Japanese fox spirit capable of shapeshifting into human form and are known to be cunning and playful, mysterious and malevolent.

You've heard the stories. Read about them. Creatures that use their shape-shifting abilities to take on human form and fool people into doing whatever they want. Tricking their prey into surrendering their deepest emotions and desires – the very essence of life itself.

In the midst of the Azalea festival, when the flowers are in full bloom – teal, lilac, and violet hues painting a pastoral picture – it's hard to find a quiet place. Especially near the main sanctuary of the Shinto shrine. Moving near the offering hall, that was when you first spotted him, towering over everyone.

He was standing beside a fox statue, arm draping over the sculpture's head, fingers as slender and agile as a ballet dancer's tracing the contours of the fox's snout. Your senses felt as though they were playing tricks on you as you watched his eyes – so pale they seemed to shimmer like a frozen lake, its lightness bordering on translucence – glide across the courtyard until they reached your kimono-clad body.

But it wasn't his demeanor – dismissive and blasé, laced with a hint of curiosity – that rendered you speechless. No. Rather, it was his appearance – a fusion of the human and the surreal. Japanese have a word for that: ‘yūgen'.

A shock of silver hair framed his face, its strands made of liquid mercury, catching the faint light of the morning sun. Yet, what truly seized your gaze were the symbols on his face – three sapphire tear-shaped drops gracing the lower edges of his almond-shaped eyes, a matching azure line tracing his waterline, gently extending beyond the corners of his eyes. Two cobalt dots adorned each corner of his upturned mouth, while another trio of sapphire lines adorned his forehead, with the middle one flowing onto the bridge of his sharp nose – reminiscent of the wind's delicate patterns. His skin porcelain-smooth and pale, accentuating the ethereal quality of his appearance.

And for some inexplicable reason, you appeared to be the only one capable of seeing him – it. Coming to a halt beneath the torii gate, he turned his head slightly, a strand of silvery hair cascading down over his left eye. The world around you seemed to hush, a stillness setting in; time itself stilling when his eyes locked onto yours from afar, leaving your lips parted in both awe and intrigue.

"You look so pretty," he murmurs, lips gliding over your neck, "when you're at my mercy."

The sharp sting of his fangs gliding under your ear, tracing the probing vein, causes goosebumps to form and travel along the spines of your arms and legs. You feel the warm hiss of his breath, the hot roughness of his tongue against your neck. Toes curling, feet dirty from the ground as the fox pounds into you. Hands gripping the wooden railing of the small balcony that overlooks a pond with koi fish swimming peacefully in.

You're not sure if someone has seen you yet. Seen the lewd image of getting fucked by someone – something – not entirely humane.

The sharp edges of his claws dig into your hips, kimono long discarded on the floor. Naked body swaying in the rhythm to the sharp thrusts. Softness melting into hardness. Satoru – his name echoed in your mind when his hand first touched your skin; as if you were already familiar with the fox – pulls you back to meet his hips, bare body dressed only in his haori, the same sapphire shade as his eyes, draped over his shoulders, arms hidden underneath the silken jacket.

Each stroke of his cock massages your walls, spreading apart the tender flesh between your legs. The ridge of his head presses up against that sweet spot deep inside you. Your thighs press together so you can feel it again. Little sparks of pleasure shoot through your body, making you moan as he brushes over everything that feels good.

"Huh–," his nails, razor-sharp and dangerous, rake over your abdomen. The palm presses flat against the contour of your tummy – hard – as if he's trying to feel how the tip of his cock bruises the opening of your cervix with each thrust. "Eeaasy now," his voice silky smooth just like his skin, "shush, we don't want anyone seeing you like this, right?"

A particularly loud moan emanates from your chest; his words drawn out by the pleasure surging through your veins. Mind feeling too good to be inhibited by anything else.

"Or do you want your friends to see you getting fucked by the devil like me," Satoru's tone lingers in the back of your head. The hand on your abdomen moving downward, toying with your clit. Rubbing circles before pressing against its sides.

You can feel him smile against your neck as he continues to thrust deep into you, each movement harder and faster than the last. His claws dig into your hips, biting into the skin there in a way that's both abrasive and soothing.

"I can't," the breath rushes out of you, leaving your head spinning and the earth swimming as Satoru pulls back to watch you clutch the railing. You're sure you're going to collapse at any moment, but you can feel him watching as your knuckles grind into the wood. Until he’s leaning in again, lips exploring your shoudlerblades,, "I can't–Satoru–hngh."

He's warm. The skin of his chest presses flat against your arching back.He turns his hips into you; the pressure mounts at your core, building up to a burning coil. Lewd sounds of skin slapping skin heating up your cheeks, burning your ears as shame tickles at the edges of your mind.

It's blaring. Flashy.

Loud.

"Hehe," he chuckles against your shoulder and you feel his teeth sink into the flesh there, careful not to puncture the delicate skin, "what pretty sounds we make."

And for a moment, you allow yourself to drown. To have the fox ravage you. Cock thrusting deep inside and with each withdrawal, your slickness sloshing out of you. Messy and wet. Coating your thighs in it. And yet it urges Satoru to go harder. Deeper.

Leaning over your body, his hands press along your ribcage before coming to rest on the tops of your shoulders. The weight of him feels like it's anchoring you in place – even though all he’s doing is encircling you with his arms and keeping no distance between your two bodies.

Thick white lashes that frame his eyes hide his true feelings while the half-smile playing on his lips remains unchanged.

His thumbs make tiny circles beneath your breasts, brushing across their undersides. A whimper escapes your lips when he pulls away, pulls out. The sudden emptiness prompting a muffled sound from the back of your throat – which earns you a playful slap on the curve of your ass.

"You're very loud, you know that?"

Satoru turns you around, hands remaining on your ribcage as he lifts you up effortlessly. Legs reflectively wrapping around his narrow hips, feeling his hipbones dig into the fat of your thighs. His presence suffocating the air from your lungs with a humid heat.

Your arms strain as you grip the railing behind you, body in the air while Satoru's arm supports your back, the other hand gripping his slick cock.

"It's not–agh," he pats your aching nub before gliding the tip over your slit, collecting the leaking wetness, "not like that."

He grins at you, eyes staring into yours with twinkles of mischief – or lust? – while smearing prespend over your swollen, empty hole.

"So you're not enjoying this," bending over you, kisses your nerves awake, his cheek nudges your head to the side so his lips can nibble at the taut skin of your jawline. And your eyes widen in shock.

People. More than a dozen people walking towards the chōzuya, a water well adjacent to the worship hall right next to the small sightseeing open building on which's balcony you're currently are in. Naked, legs wrapped around a kitsune, body completely exposed.

Just one look to the left is all anyone needs to do.

"Your body's burning," Satoru's breath scorches your ear. His cock, hard and pulsing, teases your entrance until it aches sweetly, "heh–want me to stop, pretty?"

"Ngh–" you shake your head, "don't stop."

"Good, now–," his lips graze yours the moment he slides the tip of his cock inside. Chest rambling with a sound distinctively similar to purring, "be a good girl and let me fuck you."

With that, he snaps his hips until he's buried inside of your cunt, filling you to the brink. Lowering his mouth to your skin, his fangs once again graze your shoulder blade; move alongside your clavicles until he reaches your sternum. Every deep exhale through his nose leaves an imprint on your flesh. It makes you feel like you're burning. Hot coals pressed against your skin.

His hands grip your ass. Kneading the flesh as he sets a relentless pace. Sinking deep inside with each drive of his hips.

Pushing yourself off the railing, you carefully swing your arms over his shoulders. Chest flush against his, you moan when your sensitive nipples graze the hard muscle of his torso.

"Ahh, Satoru–," your face buries in the mop of his hair when you feel his lips encircle your nipple, sucking and swirling his tongue over the mound as he drives his cock in and out of your cunt; so slick and dripping that you feel almost no friction altogether, "feels so good."

His teeth nip at the soft meat of your breast, nipple glossy with saliva as he moves his attention to the other one. You feel it then – or maybe it's been there the whole time – a brush against your thigh; initially thinking it to be his hand. Only they both lay flat against your ass. It's soft. Thick. Bushy. And it wasn't there before, yet it moves around you, slithers until it rests along the length of your thigh.

"You're taking me so well, pretty," his pelvis rubs your clit each time he bottoms out, moving you to sit on the old, creaky wooden railing, allowing his heads to roam your body – which he takes full advantage of – and only tightening the band inside your abdomen, "makes me not wanna feed."

His words fly over your head. Mind fuzzy and empty. Instead, you gasp for breath, the need for air becoming desperate as you clutch onto Satoru, whose relentless thrusts show no signs of faltering.

Toes twitching, your legs tremble around his hips. Moan after moan escaping your throat as your hips grind against his, a pathetic attempt to meet his harsh thrust and grind on his pelvis – to feel at least a tiny slither of pressure against your swollen bud – to which Satoru takes notice. Hand moving to your hip, he squeezes the flesh before moving his thumb over your clit, toying with it.

You feel another bushy tail slither onto your other thigh; it makes your eyes open. That's when you finally take notice of his full nature. He doesn't have actual tails. Instead, something vaguely resembling tails slithers from behind his back. Translucent with blueish hue. You're capable of seeing through them all. The same hue radiates from his skin, from the patterns decorating his face–

Satoru's lips continue their assault on your nipples as curiosity floods your veins.

–it's almost like small clouds taking shape, flying over his body. It's –

"Beautiful," you whimper, feeling him stir underneath your palms. The fox looks up, hips stilling with his full cock warm inside you.

"What did you say," he asks. Eyes leaving the image before you, you cup his face with one hand, locking your gaze onto his – fire meeting ice.

"I said that you're beautiful," your lips trace his nose, the tear-shaped drops underneath his eyes. The dot on the corner of his lips before grazing the soft plumpness of his mouth. It sends tingles through you. A jolt. As if you were touching a sacred artifact, fingers cautiously exploring every curve and contour of his face left behind.

Satoru's breath catches, and he closes his eyes, allowing your exploration to continue for a while.

"Hah," his lips catch yours, an arm sneaking around your middle to bring you closer, the thumb on your clit rubbing and flicking against the nerve, making you whimper into his mouth, "you're the pretty one," he mumbles against your mouth.

Slowly moving his hips back, you feel every ridge and contour of his cock against your insides until only the head remains locked in. Then he snaps. Pushes forward with a newfound fervor.

Satoru's tongue flicks over yours. Sweetness tinges your senses. Like ripe berries on a warm summer day.

"The tasty one," he pulls away, forehead resting against yours as he feels your cunt flutter.

The tension inside your abdomen grows. Coiling around your insides like a tautly wound spring, ready to snap at any moment. Every deliberate movement from him tightens the invisible band.

With each flick of his thumb, your breath hitches, body quivers in response, cunt tightening around him. Each stroke of his cock. Sharp tongue tracing a searing path over your fevered skin, igniting your senses with each pass. Satoru's focus shifts – from your jaw to your neck, to your sternum, leaving no inch untouched by his maddening touch.

His hand squeezes the pliant flesh of your ass, giving it a gentle slap every once in a while when his cock brushes your cervix. You plead for release, voice a breathless whisper against his mouth. His response a flicker of dominance, fingers teasing your clit, pushing you closer to the edge.

"Satoru–mmph–so close," your lips seal over his marking, eyes squeezing shut to contain the overwhelming sensations, "m'gonna cum."

"Then cum," he encourages, his voice a seductive purr as he flicks your swollen clit, "wanna see the face you make, pretty."

The tension reaches its breaking point with the roll of his tongue over your lower lip. The invisible band stretched to its limit. Every sensation, every touch, and every word weaves together into a pool of desire. Making you teeter on the edge, held captive by his electrifying presence, until finally, with one last snap, the tension shatters like glass. The band snaps.

"Ah, Satoru–"

"Ugh–there we go," pain mixes with pleasure. Fangs sinking into your shoulder, his claws dig into the meat on your hips. It stings when your skin is raptured. Crimson beads trail down towards his pivoting hips, fucking you through the orgasm. Through the overwhelming pleasure. Through your body spasming, cunt contracting against his cock.

He doesn't stop.

Not until the world fades away.

(Guess you should have seen that coming. What is the saying? Never trust a fox.)

"Hey, c'mon. Wake up."

You sense hands on your shoulders, shaking you vigorously. As you reluctantly open your eyes, a familiar face hovers above you, bathed in a soft, afternoon light, accompanied by a group of others. Your friend gives your shoulder a reassuring squeeze, grounding you as you blink away the remnants of slumber.

Oh no.

Hastily lowering your gaze, relief washes over you when you realise you're fully dressed. But if you're fully dressed…

"What happened?" you croak, voice tinged with confusion, the world still hazy around the edges.

Nothing seems to add up right now.

"You tell me," your friend grins, their features coming into sharper focus as the surrounding crowd gradually dissolves. "You told me you were gonna buy some shinsen for the offering hall but you disappeared. An employee found you here," you scan your surroundings, recognizing the familiar balcony in front of you, "sleeping on a bench. Completely passed out. Out of it. She couldn't even wake you up."

Sleeping on a bench.

"Sorry," you mutter, fingers instinctively rubbing your eyes, senses now fully awakened.

Was it all a dream? "Guess I got tired."

It couldn't be a dream. Not when you push yourself to stand up and feel the strain in your legs. Stickiness. Slickness between your thighs.

"What's that?" your friend points towards your clenched fist. Opening your hand, palm up, both of you gaze at a small, iridescent bead with barely discernible sapphire swirls dancing across its smooth surface.

"Don't know."

"Looks like a fox's pearl. They sell those at the charm shop," your friend nods their head towards a nearby charm shop before both of you start walking. Time to go home.

[raisingmybanner]

Accretion (a royai big bang longfic)

Fandom | Rating | Length: Fullmetal Alchemist | T | 155k COMPLETE

Summary:

accretion [ə-ˈkrē-shən] noun: An accidental deposit of “foreign” material that was not part of the painting process, f. ex. dried liquid residue, flyspecks, etc. (from Stella Art Conservation, LLC) Riza Hawkeye has worked as Security Director for private art authenticator Roy Mustang for eight years with little trouble. However, recently Mustang has taken on riskier and higher-stakes jobs, putting himself and his team in danger of exposure and harm. The objective of a new undercover job – authenticating an elusive ink drawing while undercover on a three-week island retreat – hits too close to home for Riza. Secrets carefully kept threaten to be brought to light, exacerbated by the closeness required while posing as a young engaged couple. Hold on, they have to pose as an… engaged couple? For three weeks?!

Vibes: Modern day Amestris AU, big ol' romcom, casual intimacy, what if instead of military alchemy it's dubiously legal art nerdery, everything BUT a heist, idiots to lovers, fake dating, FEELINGS, emotional support Hayate

The story includes gorgeous illustrations done by some extremely talented artists who have been working tirelessly for months. Go give them some love! You'll find pieces from @justanotherinterneruser, @chewytran, @areyousanta, and Crystal Capsids @rizaposting throughout Accretion, bringing it to life. You'll also find the work of @aldrendaux when you don't trip over sentences starting with the exact same word nearly as much as you would have otherwise ;-) If you need a kind beta with an eye for detail, you won't do better than Aldren.

Accretion is COMPLETE and posted in full on AO3!

Check out the rest of the Big Bang collection on AO3 HERE or download the amazing ebook PDF HERE.

...What are you still doing here? GO READ THESE FICS! RUN!!

[aria-recs-17-fics]

~JOSHUA (HONG JISOO) fic recs ~

part 1

(will add more in future)

[personal fav.= ✨]

City Lights by @hannieween (✨)

Golden Hour by @dkfile

Oceans and Engines by @renjunphile

Fine Line by @heartkyeom

Prove it, you won't by @leejungchans

Vanilla by @milfgyuu

Isohel by @toruro

wildest dreams by @viastro

Birds of a Feather by @onlymingyus

Beautiful Day, Sunday Morning by @sluttywoozi

[incorrectwtnvquotes]

Cecil: Hey babe?

Carlos: One second, I’m pouring various brightly colored liquids into bizarrely shaped vials and jars, and writing down random nouns and adjectives in a notebook. I’m really close to a breakthrough.

Cecil: Babe, there’s a stray cat in the backyard!

Carlos: *puts down the jar he was holding* I’m on my way.

[tearlessrain]

Dare I ask what the come/gel incident was?

I was writing some explicit star wars porn in google docs, as one does, and ran a spelling/grammar check on it. it showed "come" (the noun, not the verb) as incorrect and I went to look at the suggestions and what it offered me was "gel" which fascinated me for several reasons.

it clearly knew what I was going for. there is no other context in which "come" and "gel" could remotely be synonyms. it knew I was talking about jizz.

it wanted me to stop saying naughty words because this is a good christian surveillance state and surely I could only have been so crass by mistake.

it somehow put the previous two pieces of information together, yet was unable to determine that no one in the history of humanity has referred to come as "gel". even in star wars no one says that. no one should say that. it's an insane thing to suggest. but gel is a nice wholesome sfw word for a viscous liquid, and come isn't, so obviously that's the superior choice.

idk the combination of apparent context awareness and total detachment from the reality of human language baffles me to this day.

[lavenderfilledcoffin]

flask

noun

a container for liquids.

*♪¸¸.•*¨･:*ೄ·*♪¸¸.•*¨･:*

Work sucked. The Hadal Blacksite workers that used to occupy the facility made that abundantly clear.

So, it was no surprise when you and Sebastian came upon a stash of flasks that contained liquor.

Although the main purpose was to restock his shop, he couldn't help himself.

He giggled mischievously, turning his upper torso, and looking down towards you. "Wanna drink?"

You looked up at him, absolutely dumbfounded. "I never have before."

"Well." He opened a holster on his tail that would normally hold supplies, stuffing two flasks into each until there were no more.

"This will be fun, promise—! I think, I haven't before, either." He sheepishly grinned, shaking away that embarrassing confession.

"Let's head back, shall we?" He held out his third arm's hand for you to hold onto, and you happily accept it.

You both head back, engaging in small talk about the entities that dwell here.

He reminisces on how their states were before he let them loose, but you said 'set free' was a better way of putting it.

He hums, lost in thought before replying, "I don't get why you're sympathetic towards them, or even me. I'm the one that set those creatures feee, and they could have killed you."

"But they didn't, and that means I can be here with you." You press a kiss to the top of his hand.

"But—"

"Nuh uh."

The rest of the way there was spent in a comfortable silence.

After arriving, he allowed you to go through the vent first, following right after you.

He took every flask out of his pouches with your help, setting them on his table.

The little origami model of him tipped over from the table shaking. He put it back up, smiling as he remembers when you first gave it to him.

He grabs two flasks, handing you one.

He pops it open, and you do too. "Cheers to our first, hm?" He holds his flask up, that same stupid smile on his face.

You held yours up to his, clinking it before you both down it.

The taste didn't register for a second, but when it did, it hit. Hard.

Your eyes widened, swallowing thickly as you palm your throat while coughing. The burn being apparent in your throat and nose.

Sebastian doesn't look any better, it looks like the daylights have been beaten out of him. From what you see, he took it better since he's not on the floor coughing his lungs up as you're doing now.

After your lungs recover, you notice a funny feeling.

Your head is spinning, and your lips feel loose.

"Seb..." You call out, standing up, albeit weakly, trying to walk to him without tripping over your own legs.

Unfortunately, you end up falling, hitting the ground with a small 'oof'. The pain wasn't too noticeable, what you really focused on was this newfound feeling.

"Seb..." You looked up from the ground, reaching your hands up. A new feeling came up, was your face always this hot?

Sebastian looked down at you, his body not being able to sit still. He picked you up like a lazy cat, your body dangling. You can't help but giggle stupidly as your words slur together.

"I... love—you!" Sebastian thought it was so cute how your head fell back, especially how flushed your face was.

His ear fins wiggled happily, he felt like he was floating on clouds.

He's never felt this light before.

Sebastian pressed your body against his, earning himself a long drawn out sigh from you. He smothered your face in kisses, although a bit sloppily since he was extremely uncoordinated.

"H...nn..." You shut your eyes, the spinning feeling somehow accelerating.

"You won't... fall. I got you." He whispered, slurring his words only a little bit.

You became noticeably clingier. Sebastian didn't mind it, of course, maybe he should find more stashes...

You couldn't keep your grubby hands away from his face, your head lazily resting on your shoulder while you squished his cheeks.

"I feel so—stupid? That's a really funny word, huh? Stupid!" Your own words threw you into a fit of giggles, Sebastian only looked at you as if you were the only one who mattered in the whole entire universe.

And you do, to him, at least.

[linghxr]

10 traditional characters that I didn't know existed

In 2023 I started learning to write traditional characters by hand, so I've been paying extra attention to differences between traditional and simplified forms. In some cases, I didn't even realize the traditional and simplified forms were different!

Here are 10 sets of simplified and traditional characters with subtle differences, 8 of which I only discovered recently. Definitions are adapted from MDBG.

（1）抛 | 拋 pāo

The difference is SO subtle with this one. I have to hold the screen 3 inches from my face to see it. The simplified version has 7 strokes, but the traditional version has 8.

抛 | 拋 pāo - to throw / to toss / to fling / to cast / to abandon

抛弃 | 拋棄 pāoqì - to abandon / to discard / to renounce / to dump (sb) 抛开 | 拋開 pāokāi - to throw out / to get rid of 抛物线 | 拋物線 pāowùxiàn - parabola

（2）滚 | 滾 gǔn

I actually prefer the traditional version, particularly when I'm writing by hand. When I write the simplified version, the 衣 strokes on the bottom always looks awkward under 公 to me.

滚 | 滾 gǔn - to boil / to roll / to take a hike / get lost!

摇滚 | 搖滾 yáogǔn - rock 'n' roll (music) / to rock / to fall off 滚开 | 滾開 gǔnkāi - to boil (of liquid) / boiling hot / Get out! / Go away! 滚烫 | 滾燙 gǔntàng - boiling / scalding 打滚 | 打滾 dǎgǔn - to roll about

（3）匀 | 勻 yún

I think these look pretty much the same when handwritten, but on the computer they are distinct. I definitely prefer how the simplified one looks.

匀 | 勻 yún - even / well-distributed / uniform / to distribute evenly / to share

均匀 | 均勻 jūnyún - even / well-distributed / homogeneous / well-proportioned (figure, body etc)

（4）叙 | 敘 xù

叙 | 敘 xù - to narrate / to chat

叙述 | 敘述 xùshù - to relate (a story or information) / to tell or talk about / to recount / narration / telling / narrative / account 叙事 | 敘事 xùshì - narrative

（5）奥 | 奧 ào

奥 | 奧 ào - obscure / mysterious

It really bugs me that 奥 has a different traditional form, but 澳 (as in 澳门 Macao) does not!

深奥 | 深奧 shēn'ào - profound / abstruse / recondite / profoundly 奥运会 | 奧運會 Àoyùnhuì - Olympic Games; the Olympics (abbr. for 奥林匹克运动会 | 奧林匹克運動會) 奥利给 | 奧利給 àolìgěi - come on, you can do it!

（6）厨 | 廚 chú

厨 | 廚 chú - kitchen

厨房 | 廚房 chúfáng - kitchen 厨师 | 廚師 chúshī - cook / chef 厨艺 | 廚藝 chúyì - cooking skills / culinary talent

Other similar cases: 厮 | 廝 sī - (bound form) together; each other / (bound form) male servant / (bound form) dude; so-and-so 厢 | 廂 xiāng - box (in theater) / side room / side 厦 | 廈 shà - tall building / mansion / rear annex / lean-to / also pr. xi��

（7）刹 | 剎 chà/shā

Whether the bottom looks like 朩 or 木 seems to be somewhat stylistic and can vary by font. But the little 点 is a consistent difference.

刹 | 剎 chà - used to transcribe several words originally from Sanskrit

刹那 | 剎那 chànà - an instant (Sanskrit: ksana); split second; the twinkling of an eye

刹 | 剎 shā - to brake

刹车 | 剎車 shāchē - to brake (when driving) / to stop / to switch off / to check (bad habits) / a brake

（8）侣 | 侶 lǚ

侣 | 侶 lǚ - companion

伴侣 | 伴侶 bànlǚ - companion / mate / partner 情侣 | 情侶 qínglǚ - sweethearts / lovers

Other similar cases: 宫 | 宮 gōng - palace / temple / castration (as corporal punishment) / first note in pentatonic scale 吕 | 呂 lǚ - pitchpipe, pitch standard, one of the twelve semitones in the traditional tone system / surname Lǚ

（9）别 | 別 bié

I've known about the traditional form of this character for a while now, but to be honest, it still looks like 别 written incorrectly to me...sorry.

别 | 別 bié - to leave; to part (from) / (literary) to differentiate; to distinguish / (bound form) other; another; different / don't …! / to fasten with a pin or clip / to stick in; to insert (in order to hinder movement) / (noun suffix) category

差别 | 差別 chābié - difference; distinction; disparity 分别 | 分別 fēnbié - to part; to leave each other / to distinguish; to tell apart / difference; distinction / in different ways; differently / separately; individually 区别 | 區別 qūbié - difference / to distinguish / to discriminate / to make a distinction 性别 | 性別 xìngbié - gender / sex 个别 | 個別 gèbié - individually; one by one / just one or two; exceptional; rare

（10）丢 | 丟 diū

OK, I literally just realized there are separate simplified and traditional forms for this character while working on this post 😭 I feel utterly betrayed.

丢 | 丟 diū - to lose / to put aside / to throw

丢脸 | 丟臉 diūliǎn - to lose face / humiliation 丢人 | 丟人 diūrén - to lose face 丢掉 | 丟掉 diūdiào - to lose / to throw away / to discard / to cast away 丢失 | 丟失 diūshī - to lose; to misplace 跟丢 | 跟丟 gēndiū - to lose track of

See similar posts: Characters I used to write incorrectly Characters that look TOO similar Traditional characters that haunt me

[violettduchess]

A/N: My first entry for my and @lorei-writes 🍁Falling for Fall Creation Challenge!🍂

Silvio x Leyla

Prompt: "Gossamer", fic type: spicy

WC: 400

gossamer noun a film of cobwebs floating in air in calm clear weather something light, delicate, or insubstantial

Gossamer is the moonlight that settles across the surface of the water, a silver sheen that glistens atop the unhurried ocean waves. The small sailboat gently rocks along with each swell, all alone under the star-filled sky. The coast of Benitoite is calm, glowing in the throes of its first autumn night.

Gossamer is the cool silk of Leyla’s nightgown. It ripples under Silvio’s fingers like liquid sapphire as he travels the length of it, from the cobweb-thin straps at her shoulders down to the lacy-edge that ends at her calf. It folds on itself, light as air, when he pushes it up her leg, her hip, her waist.

Gossamer is Silvio’s argent hair, shockingly soft and delightfully luxurious. Leyla’s strong fingers curl into it as her body snaps like a sail in the wind. Her grip hurts his scalp but somehow he enjoys it, knowing he is why she’s frantic, why she’s curling those silver strands around her fingers like rings. His eyes are dark as the ocean depths, luminous with greed and pride and satisfaction as he looks up, lips still pressed to the inside of her thigh, blue gaze skimming the lines of her body. The view from here is one of his favorite sights in the universe. 

Gossamer is the sound of her name, the breathless, delicate whisper of it that escapes him when he covers her body with his and sinks into the turbulent sea of her desire. Together they chase that final, breathtaking wave. Her name on his tongue wraps itself around her, a paradox the moment it is released. It is both a soothing balm to her heated skin and a sharp wind that stokes the bonfire in her veins, encourages the wicked, wild drumming of her heart.

Gossamer is the feel of the soft cotton sheets on their bare bodies. It settles around them both, protective and cool. Leyla lays her head on Silvio’s chest, listening to the way his heart is slowing, his breath becoming steady once again. Her hand rests on his stomach, casually possessive, familiar and reassuring, and she closes her eyes, content. Silvio watches as she falls into the kind of sleep only possible when one feels utterly exhausted…and utterly at peace. He turns his head, pressing a soft kiss to her temple, barely brushing her skin, a gesture so very careful and loving, like sunlight running it’s fingertips along a spider’s web. 

A love as delicate as gossamer and just as beautiful.

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[noosphe-re]

petrichor a distinctive scent, usually described as earthy, pleasant, or sweet, produced by rainfall on very dry ground. Petrichor is an uncommon word used in mineral chemistry or geochemistry to describe the pleasant scent of rain falling on very dry ground. Petrichor is a compound of the Greek nouns pétrā “rock, stone” (as in petroleum “rock oil”) and īchṓr, the juice or liquid—not blood!—that flows in the veins of the Olympian gods. About 60 percent of ancient Greek words have no satisfactory etymology; īchṓr is one of them. Petrichor was coined by two Australian chemists, Isabel “Joy” Bear and Richard Grenfell Thomas, in 1964.

—https://www.dictionary.com/browse/petrichor